Reflections on ... Faye (2024)

 

/ Pictured: portrait of Faye Dunaway by Helmut Newton for Vanity Fair magazine, 1987 /

Recently watched: Faye (2024), Laurent Bouzereau’s bittersweet HBO documentary about volcanic screen icon Faye Dunaway. 

It immediately disarms by emphasizing Dunaway’s scary diva reputation. Before we see her, we hear Dunaway imperiously snapping “Can we shoot? We need to shoot. I’m here now. C’mon. I really would like to shoot” then fretting “This is the worst seat in the world. I’m not happy with anything here … I need a glass of water, not a bottle.” This is followed by the notorious Johnny Carson clip of a desiccated and cantankerous Bette Davis raging she wouldn’t work with Dunaway again for a million dollars. And the revelation that co-star Jack Nicholson nicknamed her “Dread” (as in: “the dreaded Dunaway”).

From there, Faye provides context. Ambitious Southern farm girl Dorothy Faye Dunaway dragged herself up from humble beginnings through grit, talent and beauty (via old family photo albums we chart the emergence of her sensational cheekbones and hooded eyes), diligently studying her craft and toiling onstage until catching Hollywood’s attention. In her 1967 film debut The Happening, Dunaway is already weird and edgy (she was never a conventional ingénue). Faye scrutinizes Dunaway’s triumphs in New Hollywood classics like Bonnie & Clyde, Chinatown and Network but also her career disappointments (like Mommie Dearest – a previously verboten subject – and the aborted Maria Callas biopic, her passion project), personal tribulations (her father’s alcoholism, the death of her younger brother, her divorces, the adoption of her son Liam, the confession that Marcello Mastroianni was the love of her life. And – unexpectedly – her fixation with Blistex lip balm). 

Faye also reveals Dunaway’s battles with bipolar disorder and alcoholism. (I remember when Nina Simone was regularly described as “volatile” and “temperamental”. It wasn’t until after her death it was disclosed, she struggled with mental illness). The supportive Liam ponders, “If she wasn’t in so much pain, would she have been that good?” Dunaway is a mesmerizing actress – do we need her to also be "nice", “relatable” and “likeable”? As one of the featured talking heads replies when asked to summarize Dunaway in one word: “She’s complicated.”

Reflections on ... Silhouette (1990)

Recently watched: made-for-TV “woman in peril” thriller Silhouette (1990). Tagline: “She Saw Too Much for Her Own Good.” I’m using this period of enforced social isolation to explore the weirder corners of YouTube for long forgotten and obscure movies. (My boyfriend is accompanying me only semi-willingly). 

Everyone’s favourite fearsome diva Faye Dunaway plays Samantha Kimball, a high-flying, elegant and shoulder-padded architect who becomes stranded in an isolated rural Texan hick town – and while there, observes a murder from her hotel room window! But no one believes her! (If Silhouette were made in the fifties, Samantha would totally be played by Joan Crawford or Barbara Stanwyck). 

As far as schlock like this goes, Silhouette is made with a degree of flair and almost qualifies as “hicksploitation” (the sub-genre of exploitation / horror films where an urban sophisticate gets terrorized by hillbillies). Anyway, the camp high point is when La Dunaway visits the town’s redneck dive bar (partly to use the payphone – this was the era before mobile phones). She haughtily asks the bartender, “Can you make the perfect Rob Roy?” I love the look of incomprehension and contempt she gets back in response. 

But for Dunaway connoisseurs, Silhouette is enjoyable for how “meta” it is: intentionally or not, it keeps referring to other (better) Dunaway films. Like when she orders the Rob Roy, it reminds me of Dunaway in Chinatown (1974) ordering a Tom Collins with the terse instructions “with lime, not lemon, please.” When Dunaway tries to piece together the murder, it cuts between violent flashbacks and extreme close-ups of her anguished face, just like in The Eyes of Laura Mars (1978). When we’re first introduced to Bonnie Parker in Bonnie & Clyde (1967), we see her framed by her bedroom window and we constantly see Dunaway looking out her hotel room window here. And some of Dunaway’s distraught line deliveries here inevitably evoke Mommie Dearest (1981). 

In short: if you enjoy watching Faye Dunaway suffering extreme distress like only she can, Silhouette is the film for you!

 

Watch Silhouette on YouTube below.

Reflections on ... Inconceivable (2017)

 

Recently watched: Inconceivable (2017). Tagline: “The perfect family. Perfect friends. A perfect surrogate”. I’m using this period of enforced social isolation to explore the weirder corners of YouTube and Amazon Prime for long forgotten and obscure movies. (My boyfriend is accompanying me only semi-willingly).

This amusingly preposterous low-budget pregnancy-themed melodrama stars Nicolas Cage, Gina Showgirls Gershon and veteran scary diva par excellence Faye Dunaway. I know what you’re thinking - what a cast! Except it could have been even better! One of the lead roles (manipulative villainess Katie) was originally conceived for messy Hollywood bad girl Lindsay Lohan! (The studio demurred and Nicky Whelan, a nondescript Australian soap opera actress, played the part instead). With Lohan starring, Inconceivable would probably be embraced today as a minor modern cult favourite like Lohan’s I Know Who Killed Me (2007) rather than wholly forgotten. 

Anyway, Inconceivable cleaves very faithfully to the well-trodden conventions of eighties and nineties psycho-biddy psychological thrillers like The Hand that Rocks the Cradle and Single White Female (or in fact, The Temp which starred Dunaway herself!), but with the generic made-for-TV appearance of a Hallmark or Lifetime production. Cage and Gershon are Brian and Angela, an affluent middle-aged married couple who seemingly have it all – but struggle with infertility problems and crave another baby. They are susceptible, then, when seemingly innocent mysterious young single mother (and potential surrogate) Katie insinuates herself into their household. The only person suspicious of Katie’s intentions is Dunaway as Brian’s patrician mother. 

Points of interest: Nicolas Cage's ink-y jet black dye job gives him that that aging male Goth look suggestive of late-period Nick Cave or Marilyn Manson. And his indifferent performance couldn’t be more “phoned-in.” Gershon does most of the heavy lifting in terms of acting and at least tries to muster some identifiable human emotions. Obviously, the mere presence of the imperious La Dunaway adds instant camp appeal to any film she appears in. She apparently broke her leg just before production, so the director compensates by only filming Dunaway sitting down. You never see her standing or walking at any point. Somehow this immobility contributes to Dunaway’s stateliness. In the spirit of chivalry, I won't comment on Dunaway’s plastic surgery choices, but the huge equine veneers on her teeth do make her slur and lisp her lines. 

Fun facts: Inconceivable was filmed at the breakneck speed of just fifteen days and was scripted by Zoe King – the daughter of trash auteur Zalmon King, responsible for 1980s softcore faux-erotica like Wild Orchid (1989) starring Mickey Rourke. Inconceivable represented filmmaker Jonathan Baker’s directorial debut – and perhaps unsurprisingly, he’s never been entrusted with making a follow-up since. A nice example of Baker’s judgement: in an act of vanity, he made the executive decision to cast himself in a supporting role. Baker’s grandiose IMDb profile begins “Jonathan Baker has always been enthralled by smart storytelling and larger-than-life figures, taking inspiration from greats like Ernest Hemingway to guide his own sensibilities as a writer, producer, director and adventurer.” One of his personal quotes claims “I can wave my hand and make the impossible happen.” As the damning Hollywood Reporter review concludes: “the aptly titled Inconceivable is something that both Nicolas Cage and Faye Dunaway will want to leave off their filmographies, and at this point that’s saying something.” Inconceivable is FREE to view on Amazon Prime – as it should be!